For the first time ever, Elise arrived at the Chelsea Piers without the intention to board a ship. Instead of her trunks, the chauffeur unloaded her little sister’s luggage. Elise held Josi’s hand as she looked around, apprehension crossing her soft face.
Their parents had said their goodbyes at the house; a tutor was accompanying Josi to France. Elise knew Josi was bound to break down at the departure, and she didn’t want to make it worse for her sister by having her entire family crowding her at the docks. So she brought Josi herself, the tutor and guards walking a good distance behind to give them privacy.
As they approached the gangway of the ship, Josi squeezed Elise’s hand and dug her heels into the ground to stop their movement. “I’m not ready,” Josi whispered. The heavy salt air disturbed her hair, her curls and the pink bows that matched her dress fluttering with the breeze.
Elise set her bag down so she could kneel in front of her sister. Tears crested in her eyes, and Elise’s heart cracked at the sight. “I was this nervous, too, before I went to France. But do you remember reading the letters I sent you?”
Josi nodded.
“What did I tell you about?” Elise asked.
“You had fun. You made music and met lots of friends,” Josi said in a small voice.
“Yes. That’s what you want, right?” Elise tried to keep her voice from wavering, but raw emotions seeped into her words.
Josi nodded again. “I want to dance.”
“That’s exactly what you will do. You will meet so many new friends, and you will get to spend time practicing your ballet.” She wiped a tear from Josi’s cheek.
“I wish you could come,” Josi whimpered.
Elise held her hand and pointed to their matching Saint rings. She tried not to think about how Josi’s had been clutched in Layla’s hands just days earlier. “We will never really be separated,” she whispered.
Josi’s eyes brightened. Elise pulled her into a strong hug, breathing in the soft scent of her soap while her curls brushed her cheek. “I love you, my dove. More than anything. Even when I’m not with you.” She moved her hand between them and placed it over Josi’s heart. “I’m with you in here. Always.”
A sob tore from Josi. “Promise?”
Elise’s throat burned with the effort of holding back tears. “I promise.”
Elise watched the boat until it was a speck in the distance across the huge expanse of the ocean. The tutor had promised to bring Josi to the deck to wave goodbye, but they never emerged. Now the last image Elise had of her younger sister was one of despair. In only a few minutes, miles of sea had stretched between her and her sister. Tears filled her eyes, and her throat tightened to the point of pain to keep them back. Every part of her being wanted to crumple. But the tiny shred of knowledge that she had done what she could to keep Josi safe held her together. Each step she took with Layla, no matter how damned it made her feel, would benefit Josi in the long run, keeping her far from the chaos that had killed their older sister.
A rough sigh escaped her lips before Elise turned away from the waterfront. She expected to see the new Saint chauffeur, Colm’s replacement, coming to meet her; instead, Layla emerged from the crowd. She looked especially peeved, the downturn of her mouth and crease in her brow defiant. The expression sparked recognition in Elise’s mind. When they had been younger and arguing about which game to play next, Layla had always managed to pull such an angry face that Elise could only laugh and give in to her demands. But now, Elise just turned and walked past her.
Layla fell into step beside Elise. She wore loose pants and a sweater, all black, with boots to match. “You’ll see her again. She’s not dying,” Layla muttered.
Elise stopped and turned a fierce glare onto Layla. “Do not speak about her. Ever. Or I will ensure you do not come out of this partnership alive.”
Layla’s lips parted and a slight smile crossed her face. “You speak in sins more than I do, Saint.”
Ignoring her quip, Elise ground her teeth together. “You owe me proof, Layla,” she said.
“Proof of your sinful way of speaking? Well, I do recall—years ago—that time you began swearing during a game of chess—”
Elise whirled on Layla and snapped, “Proof for the murder.” Her breath came out in a heated rasp of irritation and the satisfied smile from Layla only made Elise’s chest feel hotter.
Layla tilted her head to one side. Sunlight stroked across the slope of her neck, illuminating her skin like honey set ablaze. She brushed a stray curl behind her ear and Elise watched her hand until it disappeared into her coat pocket. “We need to start with Theo. I’m assuming you were given his home address so we can visit—”
“He didn’t live in your lair?” Elise asked, confused.
Layla shook her head. “No. In fact, I found him on a blood high and offered him solace in my lair, but he refused it.” Darkness covered her eyes, but Elise could not quite decipher the emotions behind it.
She crossed her arms and straightened her back, lifting her chin. “You should have reported him if he was newly turned.”
“Oh, please, Saint. I know the law protects you and your people, but reapers are not so lucky. You and the police are true monsters. Fewer people got hurt because I didn’t turn Theo in,” Layla muttered.
Elise gave her a sidelong glance. There was no universe in which she considered humans to be more monstrous than reapers. She had seen what Layla and the other reapers were capable of. Elise still could not get the crime scene and Thalia’s lifeless body out of her mind, not to mention the near death that had taken place in her own room years ago. Nothing came close to the caliber of violence and depravity reapers created and lived by.
“Oh my God,” Layla hissed. “Stop looking at me like that. You look like a scared rat.”
“Stop calling me Saint.”
“It’s your name.” Layla smirked, looking Elise up and down. “Would you rather I call you ‘sweet blood’? Or ‘pretty girl’?”
Overwhelming irritation wiped out every other emotion stirring in Elise. Looking away, she clenched her jaw to keep from shouting her next words. “We cannot go to Theo’s house. His family is grieving—”
“Okay. Then you can go home and tell your father you’re an awful investigator and an even worse heir, because there is no way you’re cut out for this,” Layla spat.
The pressure in her chest from the combating emotions Layla caused threatened to explode. Elise wasn’t sure how she would survive this partnership. Frustration was quickly burning through all of her patience.
The sooner she got answers, the sooner she rid herself of Layla and won her father’s trust. “Fine,” Elise gritted out. She started to turn away, but Layla stopped, her body tensing.
“Oh. Theo’s parents might have been his first kill…” She spoke so quietly, it must have been to herself.
Something acidic circled Elise’s throat, and her stomach turned at the thought of visiting another crime scene. “You think we will walk into a bloodbath?” she asked.
A smile broke across Layla’s face. And when she spoke, the bittersweet tone of her voice sent a chill down Elise’s spine, “No. I’m just trying to prepare you for the worst, Saint. Because if you’re going to work with me, you’ll need to get used to the blood.”